


Journey of a Thousand Steps

by BusinessWolf



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Cute, Fluff, Gay, Genyatta - Freeform, M/M, MILD - Freeform, Overwatch - Freeform, Robots, cyborg, mild gore mention, wireplay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-07-26 11:57:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7573189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BusinessWolf/pseuds/BusinessWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of drabbles of Genji and Zenyatta's time together in Nepal. It shows their friendship, leading to the possibility of something a little more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Discovering Mind and Body

**Author's Note:**

> This writing will contain my personal headcanons for both characters, which may vary from the way the characters are presented by other people. It's not really a story with a specific plot, but a collection of moments I wanted to try seeing the characters in.

To rest without sleeping, unconscious and still present. Existing in a world of power and shut downs, Genji initiated the boot up of his internal systems. His auditory sensors activated first, bringing the signal that there was sound about him to his attention first. An echoed noise, deep and clanging. The ringing of the large bell in the center of the monastery. Visual sensors came online next, allowing him to see the wood paneled ceiling above him. Whirring joints and hydraulics sounded next as he sat up, steady, sure of his movements. His visor scanned over each of the objects present before him; simple table, paintings, his robe. His room. In Nepal. The next realization was that the ringing bell in Nepal meant that he was late. Yet again.

Quick as a blink, he dashed up out of bed, through the halls and down the stairs, possessions left behind him. Zenyatta would be waiting, no time to think about anything but getting there. Using his darting technique, he managed to cover ground frighteningly fast, zipping by several floating monks dazed in the dust behind him. The green blur slid to a stop in the large square room, nearly empty. There were simple decorations about the walls, poetry on tapestries, and an omnic monk sitting in his usual meditative position.

"Apologies master." Genji said as he folded his hand and bowed to him. As he did so, his shoulder cartridges extended, letting out a puff of exhaust.

"Good morning my student. Why do you give apology?"

"I am late, master."

"You have arrived just as you needed to." Zenyatta replied, his movements fluid as he gestured around him with an arm. "How do you feel this new day?"

Genji stayed silent for a moment.  
"Fine..."

And the monk didn't push to hear more.

"Today, we meditate."

The cyborg had to keep from emitting a sigh. Everyday since he arrived, they meditated.

"Is there something else that I may learn here?"

"Is learning about yourself unsatisfying?"

Silence. A long span of silence. Genji's shoulders dropped.

"You cannot be at peace with the universe until you can attain personal tranquility."

His helmeted head dropped from focusing on Zenyatta's glowing optics. Slowly, Genji bent to take a seat, folding one leg over the other, palms up and resting on his knees. His teacher was correct. As he most often was.

“But you grow impatient.”

“Perhaps I am, just a little. It is difficult to try and think without knowing what I should be thinking about.”

Zenyatta gave a nod of understanding. “Then perhaps we should do something different today. A walk outside of these stone walls.”

It was better than nothing. Slowly, Genji got back to his feet, and with a sigh carefully let out in the noise of his gears and servos adjusting, he followed after the floating omnic. The brown and gray structure around them slowly gave way to the courtyard, to the pale blue sky and low hanging white clouds. It was a strange thing he had noticed, how perfectly this environment fit those who inhabited it. The snow was soft and silent, and when the weather was clear, the sky was open and steady. The cyborg watched as a pair of Zenyatta’s brothers passed by them, their motions mimicking that of the passing puffs above them. 

While this was a good place to become lost in thought, Genji couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps he was simply becoming lost. A low hum escaped him, causing his companion to look over his shoulder as they approached the gate. 

“It is a fine day to be outdoors.”

“It is…” Another silence fell between them as they waited for the entryway to be opened. The massive gate creaked and groaned, complaining perhaps of its infrequent use. The lack of visitors instilled that this was a place of solitude. Sometimes quite lonely, but also refreshing. These omnic soul seekers had far less presumptive and disdained expressions. 

Crunching beneath his feet prompted Genji to look down, watching as he tread the snow that coated the outer walkways. That was a sensation he had yet to become used to. He knew that the substance was cold, he’d felt ice and snow before. This now registered as being cold without the obvious chill, the slow stinging setting in to freeze the bones and make one shiver. 

Realizing he’d slowed down considerably, and that Zenyatta was waiting for him a little further down the path, the cyborg snapped his head up and strode forward with purpose. When he caught up, his master spoke to him.

“There is a strangeness to our form of living. You have a perspective very few have. But it must be quite confusing.”

“I can’t begin to explain it… There are many differences…” Traumatic, jarring, utterly confusing. As Genji thought back to waking up in this foreign body, a tinge of panic welled in his throat. Some mornings, he still managed to forget. But as he spent more and more time encapsulated in this second skin, he could see and feel many similarities. “And many things that are the same. I suppose that is what I struggle with the most. Missing what I used to be…”

“Feeling sunshine and the frozen snow did not make you Genji.”

“No…”

“However, you long for those sensations.”

“I do…”

“We cannot experience this world in the same manner. That does not mean we cannot enjoy it in our way. Look around you.” 

 

In walking and thinking, the student was oblivious to where his footsteps had been leading him. They came to the top of the walkway, where there sat a pair of benches beside an evergreen tree. The pine’s needles waved a greeting to them in the wind, and a drift of icy air directed Genji’s attention out, to the mountains in the distance. Those colors were still so vibrant, the sun casting rays over the valleys between the peaks, the softness of the weather rounding out the jagged rocks and rugged edges. 

“It is still beautiful…” 

“Yes, it is indeed.” 

As master and student, they sat side by side, folded in their reflective positions, meditating there in the sprawling frigid landscape. A breath in…. And out… watching the sun travel across the sky, the whistling of the wind’s breath between plating and synthetic muscles. Eventually, Genji turned his head to see his sensei beside him. And a pinch. A jolt of discomfort struck his neck. He made a sound of discomfort, which took the monk quickly from his relaxed state. 

“You are in distress.”

“My neck is locked in this position. Perhaps we have been in the cold for too long.”

Zenyatta floated closer, and carefully as he could, worked skillful fingers in between his neck plating to relieve the problem. Genji held his breath as the metallic pads stroked his wiring, his electrical pulses now more noticeable. A small gasp escaped him through his teeth as the monk eased the servos, adjusting cables to free him and to warm them up. 

“Perhaps we have. Can you move it now?”

Genji had been so focused on remaining still, the sensation of stroking his circuitry halting his thinking process. It felt so good, the rush of sparks going straight to the base of his head. The feeling spread, like warm washing over his skin, the buzzing electric delight filled his chest next, until he felt his eyes sliding shut. Enjoyment consumed his mind.

…..

“Genji…? Are you alright?”

Blinking he refocused on his master, the sensation fading as he tried to conjure up and answer. “I… I believe I am…”

“Your systems went temporarily offline. Does your neck feel better.” 

With a little slow turning of his head and rolling of his shoulders, Genji nodded. “Yes, much better….” Better….. But also strange… 

“We should return to the monastery.”

 

What had just happened? Even as he stood with a, “Yes, sensei…”, there were now more questions in his head than answers. Questions that were possibly inappropriate to relay to a monk. Questions to ponder as he lay in bed that night.


	2. Tai Chi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zenyatta and Genji perform Tai Chi together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is much more difficult to describe a martial art than one would think. Well, one that is not Kung Fu. Tai Chi is incredibly relaxing and interestingly, incredibly strong. It's a little bit short, but I may very well find myself expanding it.

Zenyatta was not in the temple today. Immediately, this struck Genji as odd. He was fearful that perhaps their encounter the day before had altered the norm. That maybe his master was now keeping his distance. Close to giving up his search to reflect on that sunny afternoon, the cyborg happened to walk the path that lead to the open courtyard. There, in the center, was Zenyatta, feet firmly planted on the ground. Genji had to take a moment to observe, counting the number of times he'd ever seen the omnic do so on one hand.

"Sensei, it would be much easier to find you if you told me where you wanted to meet in advance."

"Life is not about the destination, but the journey you make."

"As you have said. May I ask what it is you are doing, master?"

"Tai Chi, my student. It would be wonderful if you were to participate as well."

While versed loosely in several different styles of martial arts, Tai Chi was a path Genji rarely found his feet upon. He took the starting stance before his teacher, recalling as much as he could concerning the forms in his memory. A deep breath in, and out.... In.... And out.... And then, the first shift in movement. Both parties moved slowly, arms raising, steps being taken with calm precision. While at first unsteady, the cyborg found himself settling into a familiar rhythm. Like his pattern of controlled breathing, he could feel the wind around him. Each extension of his hands, the point of a leg, the balance measured in angles, all of it was melting into a flow. Like water, steady and strong. He watched his fingers flex, reaching to kiss the atmosphere around them, felt the breeze hug his sides and course through into his torso.

"This is what it is to be living. This feeling. This peace." Zenyatta commented, drawing Genji's attention back to his master. He hadn't realized just how much of a mirror they became in this set of moments. Watching the Omnic's hydraulics contract, to extend, to twist and bend. The sun's soft rays playing off his shiny metal form as arms so lean and graceful matched his own movements.

"I am inclined to agree with you..." There were many other things that Genji would define as something that might be superior. However, in considering this idea, it occured to him how petty and material his counter points were. His master never ceased to introduce him to new ideas.


	3. When Everything Changed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji experiences a flashback nightmare of his eventual fight with Hanzo. Warning for blood and violence.

It was a sweet Spring day. A warm breeze drifted through the leaves of the Sakura tree’s flowers. In the air, the pink petals swirled about almost blindingly. Genji could see this with unencumbered eyes, and felt the kiss of that sunlight on his skin. This was wrong. It couldn’t be right. 

 

Before him, the red painted wooden steps stretched up to meet the iron bell. The building surrounding it the same cold, peaceful white that the stone walls behind it and about the rest of the compound. As he watched the colorful flowers drift higher, the pointed accents of the roof jutted out above like shoulders of armor. 

 

Inside the bell room, there stood a man he had not seen in years. Father? Genji found himself unable to speak. Or move. He could, however, feel the presence of arms beside him, holding him in place. 

 

“We are returning this to you, Shimada-sama.”

“Thank you… Leave us… I wish to speak with him alone…” 

 

The voices echoed, disembodied and distant. What was going on?

 

Without much time to dwell on the strangeness of this situation, the scene shifted, swirling and melting and becoming a different location entirely. 

 

This time, he found himself In another courtyard, by the large stone koi statue, with…. Another face he hadn't seen in years. The pointed bangs of his brother, Hanzo, hung before his stormy, disapproving eyes. 

 

“Father and the council are very upset with you, Genji...”

 

“Give them a few days and they’ll forget it even happened, just watch.” He heard himself speaking, but didn’t form the words himself. The smug, cockiness in his voice made his stomach turn. 

 

“It is one thing to skip our lessons and waste your days in the arcade…. But your behavior is growing more reckless… Dangerous… Treacherous….”

 

“You take things too seriously, Hanzo.” The laughter that followed made Genji cringe, and the look he saw his brother give him burned into the back of his mind. “So I have a little bit of fun. What’s the harm in it? Our father is rich and powerful. So one day you’ll take his place. That day isn’t today, so why waste so much of your time trying to be him now.”

 

“You do not understand the burdens we will carry… The weight of what this family is… Your little fantasy world of pretend and carefree play will end. You have-”

 

“Responsibilities in this family, too.” The mocking tone to the words made both Genji and Hanzo more agitated. “There’s plenty of time, brother.” 

 

Regret pooled in his chest as he felt the irony in those words said so carelessly by himself so long ago…

 

Again, the setting twisted and corkscrewed, bringing him to another place, another memory. This time, to a much cooler evening, in a much darker place…

 

Up high in the rafters, in the most shadowed corner he could find, Genji sat watching a meeting transpire below. An ornate table was laid out with the finest of flatware and edibles. Gold trim glinted brightly from the lantern lights surrounding the space. Old men clad in silken robes surrounded it, silent except for the occasional chopstick and pot lid clang. A tension hung thick in the atmosphere, like the weight of the ninja’s limbs supporting him. 

 

“Gentlemen, we must address the problem at hand.”

 

An eerie stillness fell on the group. No one said a word, or moved. Genji wasn’t sure he remembered seeing any of the men dare to breathe. 

 

“If I may, Shimada-sama…”

 

A nod was given by the illustrious being at the head of the table. 

 

“No tactic that has been tried has succeeded…”

 

“I am aware.”

 

“Due to the nature of his crimes, and his irresponsible behaviour, more… drastic measures may need to be taken…”

 

“Hanzo.” 

 

Genji saw his brother’s shoulder twitch at the mention of his name. And he could almost feel the warmth of distaste begin to rise in the flesh of his former self. 

 

“Yes, father?”

 

“Do what you must.”

 

White hot anger flashed across his vision as the memory continued, funneling ahead to a darker, even colder night in the courtyard. The branches of bare trees creaked and groaned, casting shadows over every surface their moonlit reach could touch. Now that he had a moment to remember it, there was no sound. None at all. Until, a set of approaching footsteps returned a feeling he’d been trying so hard to repress. An inferno that rose into the back of his throat, acid clinging to the back of his tongue. 

 

“I… did not expect to find you here…” The voice, belonging to an apprehensive Hanzo, began. 

 

“Finally decided what to do with me?” The bitterness in his voice filled him with shame. The heat in his muscles was starting to simmer, and for a moment, he found himself settling. Found himself… almost present in his skin. Sharing that feeling. 

 

“.... Excuse me?”

 

“I heard everything. I knew you were focused on becoming a Shimada, but I didn’t think you’d so easily forget being a brother. You agreed with them, said nothing to defend me. What’s wrong with you?!”

 

“Defend you? You brought this upon yourself. Perhaps you should have thought about the consequences of your actions.”

 

“All I wanted in life was to enjoy it. Is that such a crime?”

 

“When it involves stealing and treachery, yes.”

 

“Treachery? What have I done to betray you?” The anger was rising. 

 

“You had been asked to keep your feelings under control. Fighting the enemy on your own for fun is one thing. Bedding them is entirely another.”

 

“Sleeping with her does not mean I’m betraying the clan.”

 

“Father gave you strict orders and you disobeyed them. He’s grown tired of your insubordination, and frankly, so have I.” Hanzo snarled, his own temper flaring under the cool center he always appeared to have. 

 

“And what are you to do about it then? Punish me?”

 

“If that’s what it takes.”

 

Genji felt his nostrils flare as he watched Hanzo throw down a package before his feet. He knew the hilt of that blade well. It was his own sword. And he now noticed that his brother had his own weapon at his waist. The simmer in his chest started to boil. 

 

Taking his weapon off the ground, the ninja could feel himself scowling. 

 

“You can’t force me to stop living my life. None of you can. I will be free to do as I choose!”

 

“Enough! You were born a Shimada. That cannot be changed. You have duties, responsibilities. Whether it pleases you, or not.”

 

The burning spread from his core to his limbs, and as he exhaled and let the hilt fall from his sword, a cloud filled his head. 

 

He watched his brother take his fighting stance, hand ready on his blade as he fixed Genji with a look that ignited the spark. 

 

Pure, heated adrenalin sent him surging forward, his first swing slicing only air as his brother easily stepped to the side. On the next strike, Hanzo’s blade had been drawn, and the clang of metal meeting metal rang through the air with a resounding echo. Blow after blow, counter after counter, the two circled each other. Their feet practically gliding over the smooth cobble space with minimal effort thanks to muscle memory. They trained here, when Genji deigned to show. This was not a practice session. And the first cut to Genji’s arm showed that. 

 

He cried out, immediately stepping back to grip the wound. Seeing the blood staining his fingers and glove, he looked up to Hanzo. Instead of realizing the severity of the situation, the seriousness that this meeting held, he struck back. Another swing, and another, wild, careless strike that went parried or deflected, missed entirely. 

 

“When will you learn?” Hanzo said as he gave Genji’s other arm another gash. Stepping back, the younger Shimada snarled. 

 

“When will you?!” This time, Genji leaped back into range, his speed increasing as his rage was released in this wild frenzy of swinging blades and circling steps. Clang after clang, sparks began to fly between the metal pieces. Labored breathing and aggravated growls and grunts rose between both of them. Eventually, a strike was landed on Hanzo’s arm, his right. A crack appeared in his facade. Distaste filled his tired expression, his head shaking as he returned the favor again. Genji’s arm, his leg, his other leg. The shorter Shimada stumbled, backpedaling as he tried to catch his breath. Every limb hurt. His lungs ached. But he was still foaming. Frustrated and injured, he tried to push his pain out of his mind to go forward a third time. Genji could see the fear filling his brother’s eyes. The fear that this wasn’t going to end. That Genji would keep fighting. 

 

“Genji, this has gone far enough.”

 

“Has it, Hanzo?! Have I learned my lesson yet?! If you want to be a Shimada so badly, act like it!!” The biting words met their mark. 

 

Now, Hanzo drew nearer. In two quick strides, he crossed the space and drew his blade. With a sickening schlluunnk! Genji watched his weapon drop. In slow motion, he watched himself reaching for the stump of his hand, crimson spurts bursting from the meat and muscle. His hand fell, lifeless, a scream that followed making his raw throat sore and tight. 

 

Looking to the other blade, still held by Hanzo, he watched a drip of his blood slide off to spatter against the pristine courtyard. When he met his brother’s eyes, the fierce, enraged stare that met him possessed him to make the biggest mistake of his life. 

 

Desperate emotion tightening his muscles, Genji grabbed his sword awkwardly in his other hand. Then, he charged. At the top of his lungs, he screamed, “RYUJIN NO KEN O KURAE!!” A green light took over the blade as the ancient roar of a mighty beast filled the air. The atomsphere crackled with energy as a spirit poured forth into the mortal realm. A green shimmering spector swirled around the one who summoned him, then took to the sky, spiraling off to dissipate once again. In that brief moment of tension and confusion, Hanzo retreated several steps. 

 

The older of the Shimadas then bared his teeth, circling around as he took a breath. “RYU GA WAGA TEKI WO KURAU!” 

 

With horror, and a building sense of dread in his stomach, Genji turned his head to see two arcs of blue cast out from Hanzo’s sword, his tattoo glowing brightly. A pair of much larger dragons grew, their sharp teeth gnashing as they swirled around one another and drew ever closer to him. 

 

He turned, continuing his steps as he watched the vicious beasts below, the heat from their plamsic bodies becoming hotter and hotter against his skin. They grew bigger, drew closer, closer, closer. He didn’t remember shouting. He didn’t remember reaching the edge of the courtyard. But he did remember the burning. He could see his hands in front of him, flesh bubbling as he watched layer by layer the skin peel from his form. The fibers of his muscles poked through, but before he could continue to view this horror, he was falling. All around him, there was nothing, just nothing as he felt himself plummet. Until finally, a hard smack made his entire body shudder. And everything went black. 

 

The reverberation of his scream filled his head, until he jerked awake, the sound becoming real in his throat. Panting heavily, his system sensors blaring in his ears along with the fading reflection of his own panicked shout, he sat up. His releases popped, allowing exhaust to steam out. Breath after breath, slowly, the alarms died down. The indicators stopped flashing. There was a still, a quiet. Only his breath filled the room, his headspace, his helmet. With great caution, he raised both hands, gazing down to them. Fingers trembling, he raised them to cover his visor. His neck hydraulics whined as he bent to curl up, alone in his room.


	4. Of the Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zenyatta helps Genji find his dragon again. This piece was featured in the Genyatta fanzine "We Walk in Harmony"! It's been fully released, and I am now at liberty to share this with you all.

Rain beat down upon the clay shingled roof above his head. He could hear it, faintly, however his focus was elsewhere. While a mist pooled around his form, the chilly air whipped the scarf at his head while he breathed. He could feel none of it. In his mind, there was heat. 

Dreams had ravaged him, playing the painful memories of the battle with his brother over and over again. Starved of peaceful rest, his anger simmered, boiling under his synthetic skin. The calm meditation taught to him by his master only allowed him to stew and brood in the resentment he held. Thoughts of vengeance, hatred, and loss clung to the back of his throat. Tongues of fire. 

Impatience seized him, his remaining muscles responding by drawing his body upward. Today, he was going to train. To show himself that he was strong enough. He was going to bring back his dragon, whatever it took. 

As he darted across the outer walkway, the droplets of water falling from the sky began to strike his shell. They echoed in his limbs, on his chest, against his head. An unnatural sensation of rain striking metal. The dull sound filled his ears, only serving to push him forward. His footsteps pattered lightly against the wooden structure as he broke into a sprint. 

In no time, the ninja reached the training grounds he had set up for himself. Behind the temple against the face of the mountain sat three drums stuffed with hay. Each had been marked with a painted bullseye, and all were worn from use. A moment was taken for the figure of silver and tan to take in his targets. And then, with lightning speed, he struck. Not caring at all about the rain around him, he dove forward, springing up from the wet earth to launch ahead. From his hands whizzed three sharped blade-like items, and with a puff of his exhaust vents, his arm recalibrated to load in his hand three more. Shuriken balanced in his fingers, he struck again, sending the previous batch clattering from their holds to the stone balcony below. 

Again and again and again, the weapons spun outward from his hands. The slicing of hay and the clattering of metal drifted over the air as the rain continued to fall. When his arm would no longer yield the stars, he paused a moment, chest heaving. More exhaust poured from his vents, the clicking of them retracting bringing him back to the moment. The ninja’s sharply created faceplate swiveled to focus on another set of dummies. These were also wood and straw, assembled to look more humanoid. Like scarecrows, they were vague and loosely constructed. Waving, waving gently in the mountain breeze. 

Without warning, a flash of green whipped out from his back as he launched forward once more. The figure turned his frustrated fury on two of the structures, cleaving them in half. Sword still in hand, the last target came into view, and with a growl, the ninja lept up. 

“RYUJIN NO KEN O KURAE!!” His shout rang out against his stone surroundings as he brought the blade down upon the straw being. There was a pause then, as he remained there. Dummy fallen apart in even halves. But no fire. No energy. No spirit dragon. A long groaned hiss of dissatisfaction left through his teeth. 

“Why… Why did you leave me… Why won’t you return!” Angry, the sword was cast down to the cobbled street below. The figure paced, hands balled in fists at his sides. His dragon wouldn’t appear. Not when he was enraged. Not when he was in peril. Not when he was so lost and confused. The cold sinking sensation of abandonment dragged against the back of his spine, like the water collecting to rush down it in heavy drips. 

“You are in distress, my student. Who has left you? Why do you appear so troubled?” A synthetic, melodious voice causes him to stop. Looking up to a balcony beside him, there was a monk floating there. The calm apparition tilted his head to the side, servos just faintly able to be heard by the cyborg. 

“My…. Mmm… It’s nothing, Master. Just some difficult nights of sleep.” Unable to maintain line of sight with Zenyatta, Genji’s gaze falls back to the floor. His sword still lay there a few feet away. While hearing his teacher floating closer, he stepped to grab and resheath it. 

“The shadows of your dreams are casting upon your daylight hours. Perhaps it is time to address them more directly.” 

“I have tried… I am trying… Meditation is not helping. It is giving me time to dwell in anger and frustration… I thought I was getting better, but it is not working. I feel like such a failure, Master….” 

“Hmm…. It would sound to me that you are not simply in a state of being ignored…”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Walk with me.” The monk instructed politely. As soon as Genji gave a sigh and stepped toward him to follow, he lead the cyborg away from the makeshift training grounds. They drifted through the streets, Zenyatta’s floating form gathering nothing but the rain. Meanwhile, Genji’s cybernetic feet were now caked in mud. Soon, both were walking through the giant archway and into the main stone chamber that was the Sanctum. 

“The anger and resentment you hold manifests around you as a shield. It keeps you protected and it is a fierce opponent. But it is a barrier. In holding this resentment toward your brother, your spirit is kept away from harm, but also light and peace.”

“I don’t believe I understand. My dragon should come to me, I am still a Shimada. It shouldn’t matter if I am afraid or enraged.”

“Perhaps it does matter, but based upon the reason.”

“I fear that it is because of what happened to me that my dragon has left… My tattoo is gone…. Most of my flesh is gone… My humanity…. Perhaps I truly don’t have a soul anymore.”

Zenyatta let him speak, his chrome plated face looking to him with what could be patience, or sorrow. It was still difficult for Genji to tell. The inner part of the sanctuary opened, the platform in the center surrounded by open space. Empty space. It was simple here, void of most decoration. And quiet. 

“I apologize, Master… I realize that I may have implied that having a soul first requires a body. But that is not what I mean. I think that maybe if one possesses a soul, one can also lose it…” 

The quiet admission was taken in with a nod of consideration. 

“Perhaps, my student… And perhaps, even something that is lost may be found again. Through discipline and difficulty. A barrier may be avoided, or taken down with great effort.”

“I was afraid you might say something like that.”

“Hmm hmm, yes, my student. This is your journey of a thousand steps.”

\----

Many sessions of meditation and mindfulness followed. Hours turned into days, weeks, months. The forms of tai chi blended and flowed, so fluid in fact that Genji almost didn’t realize he was moving at all. His still waters still rippled, flashes of frustration and anger still bubbling below the surface. Sometimes, actions followed and training dummies were the target of release. Other times, his discontent took the form of words. 

“I still don’t see how this is helpful, Master.”

“In time, you will.”

-

“I don’t feel any progress, Master.”

“The Earth still spins, though we cannot feel it at all.”

-

“Master, what is the point?”

“As you say, it is to retrieve what you have lost.”  
-

Seasons slipped by, rain turning to snow, turning to wind and bitter cold. Still, nothing spoke to him from inside the Sanctum’s echoing walls. The space was as empty as his mind. Even trying to think of nothing, to be truly selfless, there was that lurking rage. 

“Master, I believe I am more confused than when we began… I’m trying my best to be peaceful, to let go of my feelings, but it is difficult when they are so strong. The quiet isn’t helping me.”

“How are you approaching this problem?”

“.... I am trying to meditate, be selfless, and still. Of mind and body.”

“You are trying to climb your own wall, my student. Making your problem silent does not make it go away. You must face it.”

“How? What have you been teaching me then?”

“Patience. You came here seeking answers, seeking peace. But it is not something I can give to you. I have given you all the tools you need to accomplish what you desire. It is up to you to interpret how to use them.”

In that moment of clarity and understanding, all Genji could do was give a nod. As he returned to his meditation, he accepted it. That Zenyatta was right. He’d been going about this mental process in the wrong way. He settled, bringing back that memory in his mind. The cut of the blade, his brother’s face, the settling cold. Only this time, he let it linger. Experienced the feeling in its entirety instead of forcing it down. 

Like this, he stayed. His body moved only to breathe. He walked through every harmful word, every injury, every fantasy of revenge. He let the heat build without quelling it, let tears slide without wiping them, let his fists clench until he had no strength left in his arms to keep them tight. 

Through the enormous windows of the structure, the sun rose, waving across the sky, and then it set, welcoming the moon. This cycle repeated for one…. Two… three days. The arcs of light barely hitting the front of Genji’s visor from inside. 

Finally, opening his eyes, the cyborg drew himself up. 

“Have you found what you have been searching for, Genji?”

Taking a breath, focusing on the wall that had been mentioned in his mind, Genji reached up for his blade. Centering himself, picturing the very center of the solid monument, he unsheathes the sword in a single motion and twirls it in front of his body. 

“RYUJIN NO KEN O KURAE!” 

This time, a familiar warmth fills his torso. The fire he’d been holding down for so long sparking upward to shoot through his core down to the tips of his limbs. The wall smashes. A radiant, green light bursts forward, a mighty roar following it to shake the building. 

Relief and joy pooled in Genji’s stomach as the mighty beast circled around him. Once, twice, three times before it began spiraling upward to reach the rafters. 

“Soba….” Emotion thick in his voice, the ninja prepares his hands in a warrior’s salute, bowing reverently as his dragon faded back into light and energy. Vanishing into the roof, the sound passing through the chamber one final time as an echo, leaving silence again in its wake. 

Soft murmurs could be heard from the passageways on either side, as other monks had been alerted to the noise and display. As Genji stands, he turns to his teacher, ignoring the others for the moment. 

“Yes, Master. I have.”

For a time Zenyatta was silent, head still transfixed on what he had seen, or rather, where he had last seen the dragon. 

“I was unaware that your lost presence was quite literally a dragon.” 

“Does it bother you, Master?”

“No, not at all.” Floating more closely to be beside his pupil, there is a chuckle in his voice as he nods. “That was in fact very cool.”

Genji chuckles as he reaches forward with a fist. Zenyatta bumps it with his own, following the gesture with a respectful bow of his own. 

“Thank you, with all of my soul, my Master.”


End file.
